


Flop

by Blubunn



Series: Road to the Endverse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5x04, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Comfort Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Drunk Sex, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Manipulation, Endverse, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Possessive Behavior, The End, Virgin Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 07:39:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11846994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blubunn/pseuds/Blubunn
Summary: Set in the year 2011, Dean’s camp has been established and is flourishing. “Camp Chitaqua” is whispered along the side roads as a safe haven, and many seek it out as a place of refuge from the destruction that surrounds the world.After a supply run goes bad, Dean returns to the camp seeking comfort from his second-in-command.Chapter ImageMaster Artpost





	Flop

“Cas, you gotta be able to do something for him,” Dean growled under his breath while he poured over the books spread out on the desk before him. “Even if I find something in these, we don’t have enough time to do anything with it. Can’t you do some kind of angelic hocus pocus? Get it out of him.” He glanced up at Bobby, who sat across the house in his wheelchair at his kitchen table with his back to them. He was nursing a second bottle of whiskey with his first emptied and sitting to his left while a third sat full and waiting on his right. Bobby was eerily silent, completely ignoring the two men whispering to each other at his desk as though he couldn’t hear them.

Castiel was standing by the couch, watching out the window for any Croats that might be trying to sniff them out. Bobby became infected on a supply run only a few hours ago, but Castiel knew the man was always sitting on a line, ready to die because of his handicap. It didn’t surprise him that Bobby was more than ready to accept his infection when they realized what happened. 

Dean, on the other hand, always desperate to save his family no matter what the costs, refused to kill him when Bobby had told him to. Dean stripped Bobby of his own guns too, insisting that there had to be another way. He watched the two fight about it for the first hour, but with so little time left for Bobby to remain coherent, he backed down. Despite his surrender, he insisted on returning to his home instead of going back to the camp. Dean was reluctant to allow that, but Bobby told him he would roll there if he had to, so Dean relented. Castiel took on the lookout position while Dean poured over books and Bobby sat and wallowed over the misery of his fate.

Castiel looked at Dean now, sadness in his eyes, wishing to God he could do something. His healing ability had been cut off long before the angels disappeared, which Dean knew all too well. He didn’t know what he was expected to be able to do for the man. “Dean, this virus isn’t something new,” he murmured. “I couldn’t do anything for it before, and I can’t do anything for it now. I wish to God I could, but there’s no cure for this now anymore than there has been in the past couple years.”

“No,” he hissed, shooting up and pushing Castiel against the wall. “Don’t you say something like that. There has to be something you can do.”

“Dean…” Castiel sighed, struggling to find words he needed to settle Dean one way or the other. “I tried calling to the angels,” a lie he said so many times in the past year when Dean needed a miracle. It sounded so real on his tongue now, Castiel almost believed it. “I know you have too. There’s only one thing they want from you. Are you willing to do it? Give up everything you’ve worked so hard to build? Abandon everyone at the camp?” Dean clicked his tongue angrily, releasing Castiel with a shove to sit in front of the books again.

As easy as the lies came now, it still wasn’t easy on Castiel, especially recently. He felt dirty for using this method against his friend. He wanted to tell Dean everything last year, when the angels left, but he knew Dean would race to Sam without thinking it through. Castiel was willing to fight for Dean to save his brother, but Dean just wasn’t ready yet. If he faced Lucifer now, he would be torn to shreds. Castiel couldn’t let that happen. They had to find a way to get Lucifer out of Sam without sacrificing Dean. Dean had too much responsibility now that his loss would create a domino effect of destruction. As his second, Castiel believed it was best for everyone if he kept Lucifer a secret.

The decision was made from logic, but as time went on, Castiel found new reasons not to tell Dean the truth. Finally, he realized that he had to just admit to himself that he couldn’t bear the thought of losing Dean. As each day passed, it became harder and harder for him to face the idea as a possibility. Despite the weight that came with the lies, they were easier to bear than the idea of a life without Dean.

“Dean…” Bobby breathed his name with so much emotion weighted on his voice.

Dean shot up and went to his side. “Yeah, Bobby?” he asked, kneeling down to get to Bobby’s eye level. “What do you need? Another bottle?” he asked with a forced chuckle as he nudged Bobby’s shoulder affectionately.

Bobby didn’t return the lighthearted gesture. He looked up at Dean through hazy eyes that were begging him now. “Dean, it’s time. I can feel it.”

Dean shook his head, getting to his feet as he looked away from him. “No, Bobby. I’ll fix this. We’ll just strap you in for a while and--”

“DON’T YOU GET IT, BOY!” Bobby snapped with rage at Dean’s reluctance to grant him mercy. “I’m done for! I was done when that Croat bled on me. Do you really mean to force me to turn into a monster just because you can’t face the truth of what’s happening?”

Dean staggered back as though Bobby kicked him in his gut. “Bobby, I can’t--”

“THEN GIVE ME MY GUN!” Bobby interrupted him, his voice booming. “This ain’t your choice to make! There’s not much time left, and I promise you, if this is the only way I can get out of this chair then I don’t want it.” Dean turned to Castiel with desperate eyes as though Castiel had the answer hidden away somewhere in his trench. “DON’T YOU TURN AWAY FROM ME, BOY!” Bobby snarled, bringing Dean’s attention back to him. “Do what needs to be done, or let me!” Dean’s eyes began to shine as they searched his mind for some sort of Hail Mary to save him from having to do what Bobby was asking of him. Bobby softened at the sight of the pain behind Dean’s eyes, seeing the child he had tried to nurture in him when John wouldn’t. He wanted to be angry at Dean for holding off this long, but he forced himself to let it go. The virus was chewing him up inside, and he knew that Dean would do what he had to do in the end. There was no need to make his last words cruel when Dean was already on the verge of falling apart.

Bobby took hold of Dean’s arm, Castiel stiffening at the gesture as he prepared for an attack on his companion. Instead, Bobby pulled Dean into a tight hug. “You idjit.” Dean went rigid in Bobby’s hold.

“Don’t,” Dean whispered, trying to pull away without any real effort, but Bobby held fast. Dean knew how Bobby felt about him and Sam, but he also knew there was no need for scenes like this one. The Winchesters didn’t do things like this if they could avoid it. There was a man’s hug and then there was this, which they just didn’t do. Bobby was cut from their same cloth. Dean knew what it meant if Bobby allowed himself to hug him like this. “Don’t do this, Bobby…” Dean choked out. “Let me try to save you.”

There was a heavy silence as Bobby held Dean to him. Dean didn’t know how he was supposed to be expected to lose another father. A man should only have to lose two parents in his life if he had to, but not three. He lost his mother late enough in his life that he still remembered her. He felt her loss even to this day. His biological father not only died, but gave his soul to save his life, a life Dean often didn’t think was worth saving in the first place. He didn’t know how he was supposed to come to terms with the guilt he felt for that, even after all these years. To a degree, he even recognized his self imposed separation from Sam to be a loss. His family was always leaving him, and Dean desperately didn’t want to be alone. He shouldn’t have to give up his foster father too. He didn’t think anyone should be expected to accept so many of these sort of losses, one right after another. He hugged Bobby tightly to him, knowing there was no escaping this. No matter how hard he wished it, Dean had to let Bobby go.

“DEAN!” Castiel cried before Dean could hear the low rumble of a growl in his ear. Before Bobby could really let it out, Dean’s hand was on his gun and he fired. Bobby pressed into his chair from the blast of the gun, and Dean moved back quickly. Despite the shot to his gut, Bobby still tried to push himself out of his chair, screaming for Dean’s blood. Dean shot again. Then once more. Bobby sat still, his eyes slowly clouding over.

The two men watched Bobby warily, Castiel joining Dean’s side, ready in case Bobby attacked again. They stared at the corpse until they were certain he wouldn’t move again. Only then did Dean fall back into the chair that sat opposite to Bobby’s wheelchair, taking a moment to reach over and shut his eyes. Castiel watched Bobby for a few minutes longer before turning to Dean. 

Dean took the full bottle of whiskey on the table that Bobby and was working on it himself. Castiel remained vigilant at Dean’s side, his eyes moving from Bobby to the windows. If anyone was nearby, those gunshots would alert them. After letting Dean have a few moments with his whiskey, Castiel ventured to warn him, “Dean--”

“Don’t, Cas,” Dean interrupted, pulling the bottle from his lips and letting some liquid dribble down his chin. “I don’t want to hear it right now. If anything wants to mess with me right now, I say let ‘em come. Otherwise, don’t say a damn thing.”

Castiel remained quiet after that, standing beside Dean while he drank. When he finished the bottle, he reached over and picked up Bobby’s half finished bottle. When Castiel moved to protest, he jerked away from him. “It’s blood to blood, Cas,” he grunted. “It doesn’t matter.” He drank the rest of that whiskey too. Only when both bottles were emptied did he stand and begin lifting Bobby’s body from the wheelchair. Castiel moved to help him, and the two made their way to the jeep with his corpse. The sound of the wheelchair getting knocked over behind them from their effort seemed to fill the stale air in the quiet house. Castiel helped him settle the body into the backseat, and watched Dean start toward the driver’s side.

“Dean…” Castiel tried, resting a hand on his shoulder. Dean looked at him with such sadness in his eyes that he couldn’t find the words he needed. Instead, he kept his eyes on Dean’s as he let his hand slide down from his shoulder, along his arm, and against Dean’s hand that held the keys to the jeep. Castiel kept his gaze gentle and understanding while they rested on Dean’s gaze. In return, Dean let the keys slip from his grip into Castiel’s. He guided Dean toward the passenger side and helped him slide into the seat. 

At first, Castiel moved to shut the door, but he noticed Dean wasn’t moving. He leaned back into the car to slip the seatbelt over Dean, securing it in place. As he moved back, he noticed Dean’s eyes following him. He paused for a moment, looking back at him. Their faces were so close, Castiel could feel his whiskey stained breath slowly passing from his parted lips to brush against his own. Up close, Dean looked so sad that Castiel wanted to do or say something to chase that look away, but he nothing came to him. Finally, Castiel turned away and eased the door close. He tried not to notice Dean’s eyes following him as he rounded to the driver side of the car and settled into the seat there, buckling himself in.

The jeep came to life when Castiel turned the key into the ignition and Dean’s eyes moved back ahead as Castiel drove them back to camp. When they got there, Dean called over some of the men to help him and Castiel move the body to Bobby’s cabin while they prepared a pyre. 

“Let me take care of it, Dean,” Castiel murmured when the men left to get started on the pyre, resting a hand on Dean’s shoulder to stop him from following them. He didn’t know if Dean wanted to stay with the body, or drink more or just rest, but Castiel felt it was right to give him the option.

Dean looked at Castiel, letting his gaze rest on him again. Castiel tilted his head at him, wondering if Dean meant to say anything. He had been so quiet during the drive and moving Bobby, he wondered what his friend was thinking. After some time, staring at each other, Castiel noticed the smell of whiskey again. He wondered if Dean had always been standing this close, or if he moved closer while Castiel was distracted with his thoughts. 

Castiel broke the gaze, looking down and taking Dean’s hand. “Do you want to stay with Bobby while we set up the pyre?” he asked, looking up at Dean again as he tried to pour what comfort he could into Dean through their  hands. Dean remained silent as he looked down at their joined hands, then back up into his eyes. Castiel shifted, suddenly feeling his face warm under the gaze. It was a strange feeling. He normally felt so comfortable looking at Dean this way. He found himself looking away again, toward the door. “I can take you to your room to rest?” he tried again. 

Dean finally inhaled and spoke, his voice gruff, but low, “I’ll stay here for now...Sit with Bobby.” Castiel nodded and turned to leave, releasing Dean’s hand. He was stopped when he realized Dean didn’t release his hand. He looked at Dean, watching his whiskey soaked eyes move over his face.

“Dean?” Castiel murmured after a beat passed with them like that. Then Dean released his hand, turning away to let him go while he moved to sit by Bobby’s bed where they laid the body. Castiel watched him for a second longer before moving to the door and out to help with the pyre. 

=============

Dean ended up wrapping Bobby’s body in the sheet that would cover him as the fire ate away at his flesh, so when the men returned, all they had to do was carry him to the pyre. He stood beside Castiel as some members of the camp who befriended Bobby spoke their words of farewell to him. Ellen stood with Dean and Castiel, joined by her daughter, Jo, opting for silence than delivering any sort of eulogy. When all was over, the camp dispersed, but the four of them went to Dean’s cabin so they could all drink together in Bobby’s memory. Castiel more sat back and watched them drink as they shared memories, and anecdotes, each one getting more humorous the more they drank. Eventually, as alcohol often turned things without warning, the party grew serious and the laughter faded. 

“He was a good man…” Ellen murmured after she set down an empty tumbler. “He didn’t deserve to go out this way…”

Dean looked at his own empty glass, his eyes shining as he whispered, “I’m sorry, Ellen.”

“Shut up, Dean,” Ellen snapped, brushing his hair back with a sort of maternal affection. “You did right by him. He would’ve hated it if he got out into the world like that, infecting others. If he made it back to the camp like that. You did good, Dean.”

Dean kept his head down, but looked up at her under his lashes, grateful that she didn’t hate him for putting Bobby down. “I should’ve been more careful. He shouldn’t have been out there with us.”

Ellen cackled at that, “I would’ve liked to see you try to stop him. Bobby was never one to sit on the sidelines. Even when he was retired, he still was much more hands on than he should’ve been. I think the business with his legs just made him overzealous. Ain’t nothing you could’ve done about it.”

“Still--”

“Listen to my mom, Dean,” Jo said with a playful smirk, sadness keeping the corners of her mouth from reaching her eyes. “Shut up.” Despite her teasing, there was sympathy in her look. “Don’t blame yourself for something you can’t control. There’s enough that is in your control that you need to worry about.”

“Like getting some more toilet paper for the shitters,” Ellen hiccuped.

Dean smiled at that and Jo laughed as she nudged her mother. “I think it’s time we get to bed,” she suggested.

“One last one, to finish it off,” Ellen said, pouring the final shots into the tumblers. “Cas, quit lurking in the corner there and join the final toast.”

Castiel shifted at that, not meaning to lurk. He just didn’t know what to do with himself. The amount of alcohol he needed to get to the state of the current party was much higher than the alcohol they had. It was just better to not drink at all. However, he understood the spirit behind the gesture, and sat beside Dean to take up the tumbler Ellen poured for him.

“To Bobby,” Ellen murmured, raising her glass. The party echoed her, clinking their glasses and downing their shots. Dean said his goodbyes to the two women, kissing their cheeks. Even Ellen kissed Castiel’s cheek, giving his shoulder an affectionate pat before they took their leave.

Dean sighed heavily as he shut his cabin door, leaning his head against the frame. The day had clearly been an ordeal for Dean, and Castiel was at his side, ready to help him to bed. Dean swayed against Castiel as he led him to the bed, but Castiel kept a firm hold on his waist, making sure he didn’t bump into anything on his way there. Dean flopped onto his bed with a soft thud against the mattress, and Castiel lifted his feet so he was laying on it properly.

“Sleep well, Dean,” Castiel said as he moved to straighten up, but Dean caught his tie, keeping Castiel bent over him. He looked down at Dean, getting that strange, warm feeling again as Dean looked up at him. His Grace began fading soon after his conversation with Anna, but Castiel was taking great pains to ration it as best he could. However, after a year of it leaking out, Castiel noticed he was feeling things he didn’t really know how to place. Part of him wished Anna stayed with him so she could help him understand what was happening. He thought to ask Dean, but for some reason, that thought also brought on this uncomfortable warmth.

“I love this tie…” Dean whispered, running his thumb along the cheap fabric, “but, Cas, we’re in the middle of the woods. Maybe it’s time to dress in something more appropriate than a suit.” His eyes never left Castiel’s as he spoke, his words slow, and purposeful, like he was trying not to let them run together.

“I don’t have anything else, Dean,” Castiel protested, tilting his head. “Would you be willing to lend me your clothes?”

Dean pulled Castiel’s tie closer, giving him a crooked smile, “Cas, you can borrow anything you want of mine. You’ve been so good to me since I sent Sam away…” His gaze faltered at that for the briefest of moments, but he looked up at Castiel again, seeming determined as he tightened his grip on the tie in his hand, “You’ll never leave me, will you, Cas?”

Castiel shook his head, “No, Dean. I will stay by your side forever. Whatever you need from me, it’s yours.”

Dean pulled Castiel’s tie even closer at that, and their faces were so close that Castiel couldn’t help but wonder if it was possible to get drunk on alcohol fumes alone. He was feeling dizzy, and warm, and he didn’t understand. Suddenly, Dean’s lips were on his. Dean closed his eyes when they met, and Castiel followed suit. He didn’t know if he closed his eyes because Dean did, or if it was because it made the kiss feel better somehow, but the jolt inside him was oddly pleasant.

Dean grabbed Castiel’s scruff, and twisted himself, so Castiel found himself underneath him while Dean continued to kiss him. Dean ran his tongue over Castiel’s bottom lip, just a flick here, and then another. Finally, Dean pulled away just enough for Castiel to see him smirking at him from his peripheral when he opened his eyes. “Open your mouth a little, Cas,” he murmured, and Castiel obeyed, parting his wet lips for Dean. “Use your tongue to mirror mine first, but then, I want you to just do what feels natural okay? When you get comfortable with the movements.”

“Yes, Dean,” Castiel acceded, and Dean’s lips were on his again. This time, when Dean traced Castiel’s bottom lip with his tongue, Castiel’s lips parted and Dean slid through. His tongue caressed Castiel’s, which he mirrored in kind. As the kiss deepened, Castiel let out a sound that he wasn’t quite sure he could place, but it seemed to fire Dean up. He struggled to follow Dean when he pushed harder into the kiss, his tongue stronger against his own, no longer caressing, but stroking. He felt Dean unbutton his shirt, just the couple between his navel and his chest. Then he pushed his hand through, and when the skin of Dean’s calloused palm ran over Castiel’s soft stomach, he felt his body lift itself, and that sound came out of his throat again.

Castiel tried to understand these sensations, but he just kept getting lost in them. Everything felt so...pleasant. At the same time, he felt warm, but not unbearably so. Not yet, but there was a stirring in his lower abdomen that made him think it could very soon.

“Ah!” Castiel let out a sharper sound, inhaling when Dean brushed a finger over his nipple, just grazing it. It pulled that sharp sound from Castiel as well as made his back arch toward him. He understood what was happening now. He never saw many men doing this together, but he saw enough in his many years to know what they were doing. However, the feelings they elicited made it all seem so new to him. They were nothing like what he expected.

“I love the sounds you make,” Dean murmured against his lips when he caught them into his own again. He brushed his thumb over Castiel’s nipple, swallowing the sharp moans the action pulled from his friend. He pinched the hardened peak between his fingers just enough to pull a startled moan from Castiel. He moved over him as he groaned in reply, tucking his thigh between his legs and ground down over it. He pressed his own thigh between Castiel’s legs and rolled it over the bulge hidden under his cheap suit pants, swallowing another, deeper moan as he kissed him.

Castiel tried to find the right pressure his body seemed to crave as he rocked his hips against Dean’s thigh, inelegantly compared to Dean’s sensual rolls of his own hips. Castiel broke the kiss again to let out another moan, wondering at all these new feelings Dean was washing him in. “Like this,” he whispered against his jaw, sliding his hand from his shirt and resting it on his hips. He guided him to roll his hips like he did his own, allowing him to get the most friction he could against Dean’s thigh through their clothes. Another, more satisfied moan broke from Castiel when Dean guided him to the right spot. “Very good, Cas…” Dean murmured as the two rubbed themselves against each other. Castiel moaned as Dean nipped at his throat, sucking a mark at the dip between his clavicles. Dean rose up over Castiel, watching him grind himself against Dean’s thigh. He listened to his moans grow louder, felt his hips become more desperate, watched his face innocently contort into honest expressions of pleasure when he found something he liked.

Castiel could feel Dean’s eyes on him, and he felt that uncomfortable warmth flood over him again, but he couldn’t stop himself from seeking out something. As his hips rolled over Dean’s thigh, stroking himself against it, he felt a pressure building deep inside his core, and all he could do was just keep stroking it until something happened. He knew what was supposed to happen. He knew what this was leading up to, but he didn’t know this feeling. This pressure that felt like it was going to boil over if he could just find that right spot.

Dean smiled, understanding the look that was crossing over Castiel’s tight expression. He shifted his knee and pressed just as Castiel rolled, stroking him with just the right amount of pressure that Castiel’s eyes widened and a grunt muscled its way through his moans. He clung to Dean, and felt himself spasming beneath his pants under Dean’s thigh. Dean caught his mouth with his, kissing him hard, stroking his tongue with his own. Castiel was all that was left, and he was Dean’s. He meant to keep this angel he made such a mess of. Even in his drunken haze, Dean knew that he wouldn’t let anyone take Castiel away from him.

When he finally was able to come down from his orgasm, Castiel looked at Dean with such a spent expression, Dean had to kiss him again. “D-did you?” Castiel asked, not entirely sure what to call it.

“Come?” Dean helped him out. “I’m a little too far gone, Cas. I’m not coming tonight. I drank too much,” he clarified when Castiel squinted at him. “Another time,” he assured him with a kiss when his expression turned disappointed. “You just relax.” Dean finished unbuttoning Castiel’s shirt, sliding it and all the other layers that covered his torso off, Castiel lifting himself to help. Then he unbuttoned Castiel’s slacks, and slid them down and off, including his boxers. What was left was Castiel’s impressive length, glistening from his orgasm. Dean used the pants to very gently wipe him clean, watching Castiel’s winces to make sure he didn’t apply too much stimulation to the spent organ.

After Castiel was stripped and wiped clean, Dean looked him over. Objectively, James Novak was a good looking man, but it was difficult for Dean to see him as a male despite the obvious reference to his sex that lay spent between his legs. When he looked over this body that had been blown apart and put back together just for Castiel, he could only see the angel. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss him. He lay next to the naked angel, shifting their bodies around to ease the blankets out from under them and bring them over.

“Don’t you want to remove your clothes too?” Castiel asked as Dean pulled him closer.

“I like it like this,” he murmured, nuzzling Castiel’s neck. “Stay with me tonight, Cas,” he whispered after he got comfortable. “I know you don’t sleep, but you don’t mind staying here tonight, do you?”

“Of course not, Dean,” Castiel murmured, letting Dean hold him as he settled in around his naked body. “I hope you sleep well…”

“Mmm...thanks, Cas,” he murmured into his hair. Castiel listened to Dean’s heart as he fell asleep, but what he hadn’t meant to happen was his falling asleep with him. Angels didn’t sleep, but then, there were a lot of things angels didn’t do that Castiel did tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Flop: After players are given their cards, the dealer reveals three cards that make up the community cards. Players must use their two cards to form a winning hand with three cards from the community cards. The community cards will generally have a total of five cards the players can choose from.


End file.
